Tyrant in My Head
by Turquoisetears
Summary: What if Tom Riddle himself isn't really evil? What if he had made a mistake that had led to Voldemort's rising?


*Tyrant in My Head*

My name is Tom Riddle.  I am not, and I was _never_ "Lord" Voldemort.  I regret that the scourge of the wizarding world came to be because of my foolishness, ambition, and thirst for power.  But I paid.  Oh yes, I paid.  

How many years has it been?  How many years?  Ah, stranger, what brings you here, to the mind of this person—nay! the Devil himself, the one you call Voldemort, he-who-must-not-be-named, ah, the Dark Lord!  What indeed?  No matter.  I want to tell you a story…I beg of you to listen to my tale…

It began many, many years ago.  I was a foolish boy, fresh out of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I was so naïve, so foolish, so _stupid_.  I traveled the world, oh, the places, the people I met and saw!  Then, I went to Egypt.  

I loathe that place now.

But then…I thought Egypt was an exotic paradise, with untold secrets, waiting to be discovered!  And perhaps…perhaps…I could gain power.

I explored Egypt to my heart's content, sitting by the Nile, watching the barges row past, scaling the pyramids and watching the sun rise from the very tip!  Ah…I was so happy.

Then, Lady Fate turned her face from me.

It was late.  Dusk.  The sun had just set.  I was walking through the marketplace, on my way back to the small hut I had rented…

"Pst!  Boy!"

I turned, confused.  A man, crowned with a turban, clad in robes of a hue that was difficult to make in the failing, beckoned.  Was he speaking to me?  I made my way to him.

"Were you calling me?"  I asked politely.  

He looked me up and down.  I swear to you, that I saw his eyes flash red for a moment.  "Yes…" he hissed in a most serpentine manner.  "Yes…you will do nicely…

"Boy," he whispered to me.  I leaned in closer.  "Do you wish to learn…power?"

Ay, I should have refused there and than, and perhaps prevented a great evil, but I thirsted for power.  Ever since my damned Mudblood father left my mother and she died, I have sworn that one day I will return, with unimaginable power, to take my revenge.  So I said, "Yes."

He smiled, no smirked  at me.  "Here, boy…take this.  It will serve you well."  He thrust a small object into my hands.  "It once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself…"  

My head snapped up.  "Salazar Slytherin!  Y—"  He was gone.  Apparated, no doubt.  I opened my hand…resting on my palm was a tiny snake, carved from an emerald, with eyes black as midnight.  It was alive.  It writhed and twisted in my hand, hissing and baring its fangs.  I lifted it up to examine it more closely.  It spoke to me.  It didn't come as a surprise—I knew I could speak Parseltongue.

"Tom Riddle…tell me the truth.  Do you want…power?  Answer me truthfully, boy, and I can make your dreams come true!"

Its eyes mesmerized me.  They were hypnotic, beckoning…

"Yes…I want power."

I swear by the Lady that the snake chuckled.  "So be it."  The coal black eyes flashed!  And then…I knew I was no longer my own.

For years, that presence in my mind used me, took my body as its own.  It called itself Lord Voldemort.  I had no control.  None.  I was a prisoner in my own body, enslaved to this tyrant in my head…I resisted and fought, but to no avail.  He laughed at me, laughed at my weakness, laughed at my pitiful cries…

He…we underwent many transformations, steeped our very soul in the very darkest of magic…and finally, when we returned to Britain…we were ready.

No one recognized me.  No one, even those who had been my most intimate friends at Hogwarts.  I…he…we…rose in power quickly, gaining followers, gaining power.   

We…nay he, I had no wish to do these things…tortured many people, Muggles and Mudbloods and Witches and Wizards alike.  The first time he ever used the Unforgivable Curses, I screamed and pleaded, and if I could, I knew I would have thrown up.  He knew watching people suffered gave me anguish, so he did it often.  He tried to break me, tortured me, and perhaps he succeeded…I'm not so sure.  

Then, one day, he tried to kill James and Lily Potter.  That was the night of his downfall.  It was the night I was set free.  Little Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived defeated him, and in that final stroke, when Voldemort's spirit was ripped away from my body, my mind was set free of its earthly bounds.  Two spirits inhabited that one body, and when that body was destroyed, both minds were torn away.  Voldemort did not take kindly to that, and his spirit fled and hid, but I…I rejoiced, painful as the separation was, and I let my spirit float free, up to the sky…

Author's Notes: Just another take on Voldemort and Tom Riddle.  Inspired by Digimon and Digimon fanfics (too numerous to name).  Harry Potter nor Digimon belongs to me, therefore Voldemort and Tom Riddle do not belong to me.  The creepy old man was inspired by Yu-Gi-Oh, so he's not mine either.  I don't own anything except the plot.

Thanks go to Jennafer Klingbile.  Go her.  She's awesome.


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